The Olympian Code: Chapter Two
+++ - decode this - +++ -|- THE OLYMPIAN CODE -|- +++ Authors' Note - All the characters and places, and the descriptions thereof, may or may not be fictional. Special Thanks to Reyna for her unreserved help acting as the Consultant of Mythology, all the canons and originals who gave permission to use their characters, and all the suggestions and encouragement the authors received in the shout box and the previous chapter. - CHAPTER 2 - The police were almost halfway to the curator’s office with their ‘fugitive’ when Leo Valdez remembered the bar of soap in his pocket. No time, he thought, I have to find a way to get these crazy cops away from me first. His mind was still racing with thoughts about the hidden message Lobo written on the floor, that he could almost hear his brain whirring. It was there for a reason, obviously. It was a code. A code that only a few people could crack. Lobo, Leo had heard, since the guy's quite famous, was not the type to give things away without a challenge. O, Draconian devil? The cops were communicating aggressively to each other, probably arguing. They kept glancing in Leo’s direction and started pointing accusingly at him. They were all speaking in rapid French, and Leo only caught a few—not exactly pleasant—words. Oh, lame saint? Then they started pointing at one of the forensic police’s tool belt. The forensic man answered them in a harsh and rough tone. Apparently, they didn't like his handy dandy equipment. “Hey,” Leo mused at him, “Nice tool belt.” “Huh? Thanks,” the man grumbled, turning his attention back to the others, firing retorts. Show a little politeness, will you? Leo thought in his head. They climbed down another set of stairs and were turning into another corner when Leo suddenly had a really brilliant, really crazy idea. He took out the bar of soap from his pocket. Then he faced the small crowd of policemen, witnessing their quizzical looks at his sudden confrontation to them…until Leo threw the soap to one of them, knocking the dude down. The aim was perfect. The police surrounding the fallen man panicked and tried to wake him up, momentarily distracted. What amateurs, Leo took this chance to run away from them, grabbing the bar of soap from the floor along the way. Leo fished out his pink phone and skimmed around for Hazel’s number. He placed the phone in his ears, listening to the dial tone. Someone picked up. “Hazel! Is that you?” Leo said, while looking back to see a stampede of French policemen on his tail, waving their guns in the air like cavemen. Leo couldn't help but ponder that the police's actions were...quite interesting, lately. “Yeah! Here! Quite busy…” Leo heard noises in the background that told Hazel wasn’t lying. There was the sound of steel as well as groaning men. “Hazel, hey, could you help me out with this message?” Leo told her the number sequence he had memorized. He needed some help in understanding the message Lobo left. Maybe Hazel had an idea about it? “Aha!” Hazel suddenly said. “The Fibonacci sequence!—oh hey, Frank! Nice to meet you, though it’s bad timing! Umm, Leo, sorry, gotta go. You have three minutes!” She hung up all of a sudden, leaving a stunned Leo running for his life. The Fibonacci sequence…those numbers that went from least to greatest? He ran the information in his mind. Numbers in sequence…all in order…but the numbers were random…maybe if he would rearrange it…yeah, but what good would it become? Maybe the numbers correspond to that of the message below it…? Then it clicked. Anagrams. Leo had heard that Nicholas Lobo loved puzzles and crosswords and anagrams and even made jokes with other artwork titles. Quickly, Leo stepped beside a dark corner of a sculpture and watched the police run pass him. He closed his eyes for a moment to think of the message. What words would form when he scrambled them around? Draconian devil…Corn, crane, drain—wait, those weren’t important. Heck, they weren’t even related! Think, Leo, think! Da Vinci…yeah, it seemed to match. Leonardo da Vinci! It was perfect. Oh, lame saint…The Mona Lisa. That was it! Leo opened his eyes again. The hall was suddenly quiet. But he had figured it out now. Nicholas Lobo had proven himself to be a genius. ---- Hazel had almost fifty policemen behind her (while in the middle of a phone call, no less) when Captain Zhang appeared in front of her, half enraged and half confused. Hazel hung the phone and continued to run to pretty much any direction, as long as she could keep them as far away as possible from the Grand Gallery and give Leo time to solve the message. “Levesque!” Frank yelled, bringing out his pistol. “Stop this madness!” “But I’m a cryptographer. You did call my department looking for cryptographers to crack Lobo’s message, right?” Frank’s right eye twitched. “But to cause this much havoc? What in the world are you thinking?” “Err, I didn’t mean to do it?” she said innocently, and suddenly slammed her sword against Frank’s head, knocking him cold on the floor. She flinched when his body landed with a thud. “I’m very sorry. Really, I am. But I guess I did mean to do that. You have been pretty annoying lately, Frank dear.” She glanced back to see a group of frozen French people staring at their KO-ed leader. Hazel continued being the one in pursuit. There’s isn’t much time, she thought. She was getting tired of running and attacking and then running again. There was so much energy drained today. She wondered if she would be able to last for night. ---- Leo was climbing back up to the Grand Gallery when the forensic policeman with a nice tool belt cornered him at the top of the stairs. He has a gun on his hand. Normally. "Whoa, dude, did you take a shortcut?" Leo commented. The man shrugged. "I took the elevator. The power's on, anyway." But then his face turned serious and lifted the gun more higher. Then he started speaking on his walkie-talkie, calling reinforcements. Oh great. I have to get pass through him, Leo thought. Without getting shot, of course. He looked around for anything other than his bar of soap that could distract the man. The paintings? No...he wouldn't do that. Nope, nope, nope. But he was really running out of time. Leo couldn't stand there forever. And the police would be here in any moment... Leo brought his bar of soap again, and slid on the floor. The forensic was almost taken back by its sudden appearance, and so he slipped, head-first on the ground. Then, against his will, Leo brought down a nearby million dollar painting from the display and smacked it at the policeman's head, making him unconscious. Leo heart almost broke. The painting! My gods, what have I done? But it wasn't the time to sulk around. Leo unfastened the tool belt from the man and wore it to himself. He was going to need everything that would help in this madness. And besides, this was a cool tool belt. Leo started sprinting down the hallway, resisting the urge to return the ruined painting he had done back to it's original wall. ---- Leo crouched in the shadows and tip-toed to the Mona Lisa painting in the Salle des Etats – Louvre’s most famous room. He picked a black light from his new tool belt, and flashed it around the dark room, looking for a sign. He caught a luminescent glow on the floor – dried blood. Feeling both repulsed and intrigued, he searched around the walls. The light stopped in front of Mona Lisa’s face. There were six words written across the beautiful face of Mona Lisa. So Dark The Con Of Man Leo’s head didn’t need much time to turn the anagram. So dark the con of man… Madonna of the Rocks. The genius of Nicholas Lobo would never stop amazing him. Leo turned back on his heels and flashed the black light on the opposite wall, where he knew that the ‘Madonna of the Rocks’ painting was hung. There wasn’t anything written on that painting, but Leo followed his instincts and rushed over and heaved it off the wall, breaking his heart again, – if that was even possible anymore tonight. Something fell to the floor with a tiny clang that echoed way too loudly. What the – Leo started, and leaving the painting leaning against the wall he bent down to look for the whatever thing that fell. He caught a slight glint of metal not far away, and heard footsteps coming up at the same time. He hastily put the key in his pocket and ran out of the room, and jumped out again from the window he’d broken earlier in the night. The three minutes were up a long time ago, and the SmartCar was idling on the car park. Leo ran to the car and got in the front passenger’s seat. Just a second later, the shadows next to him distorted, and Hazel appeared on the driving seat and promptly fell onto the steering wheel, asleep or unconscious. “Hazel?” Leo asked, shaking her. “Uhh huh…” she said groggily, her eyes still half closed. “HAZEL!!!” Leo yelled, and the girl in question jumped back – quite wide awake now. She shook her head a few times, looked around for a second, and then restarted the car. “There goes my last shadow travel for the day” she muttered. ---- Hazel drove, no, flew her SmartCar to the Gare du Nord train station in Paris. It was no different from any other train station in Europe, complete with the homeless people and bleary-eyed college students listening to their I-Pods... They parked into a lot and get out of the car. Then they jogged into the main station, where everyone mainly bought tickets. Leo looked at the enormous departure board above listing the next trains. The topmost one said - Lille - Rpaide - 3.06. Hazel took one look at the board and groaned. "Why can't it go sooner?" Leo checked his watch - they had barely five minutes to buy the tickets and catch the train, and Hazel was annoyed with it going so late? Hazel thought for half a minute and then turned to Leo, snapping her fingers. "Your credit card!" she said when he looked at her quizzically. The voice and expression was so demanding, that he had taken out his wallet and pulled out the credit card before he knew what he was doing. "But - but they can trace it back and find that we're in Lille!" he said. "I know and that's why I'm doing it!" Ohh-kay...This girl is officially crazy, Leo thought. But then again, he countered, it might be a good idea not to mention it. She grabbed the credit card and marched to the ticket counter and came back in a minute holding two passes. But instead of going to the platform where their train was starting to hum, she put her hand through Leo's and led the way out of the station. No need to tell, Leo was C-O-N-F-U-S-E-D. She nearly pulled him to the farthest taxi from the station, and knocked on the window. A sleepy driver rolled down the shutter, and Hazel started a long rant in French - Leo caught only a few stray words like, "destination", "shortcut", and "money". Whatever she was telling the taxi driver, he didn't like it. He started closing the window back, and Hazel jumped on to the roof and rolled herself to the other side of the car and kicked her heel into the front passenger seat's window, shattering it to pieces. She peered into the car from the broken window and said something else, and the driver got out quickly enough after that. After rolling back to the right where Leo was standing - is walking around the car so hard? - Hazel handed the exasperated driver a thick wad of cash. He still looked ready charge them, until Leo decided to help out. He pulled out a gun from his tool belt and shot at the driver – nothing fatal, as it was a pink toy gun shooting breath mints. Still, a handy enough tool to have at your side. The driver was knocked out – he wouldn’t be pressing charges against them for another hour – just long enough to make a quick escape. Hazel picked out only the larger shards of glass, simply brushing away the rest of the glittering dust on the passenger seat. It was still rather scratchy to the hand so Leo shrugged out of his coat and laid it on the seat before getting in, He’d barely closed the door when Hazel was driving again almost as insanely as she had on the way down to the station. “Nice gun,” she commented, grinning. “Long story,” Leo replied, putting it back in his belt. He was hanging on to dear life, too busy to grin. Who gave this crazy woman a driver’s license? “What happened at the gallery?” “Huh?” Leo tore his eyes from the road distractedly. He sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t become road kill. “Well, your friend got back to me, he gave me away to a bunch of crazy policemen who couldn’t decide what to do, one of them had a nice tool belt and I took it, went to Mona Lisa’s to see your grandfather’s graffiti,” Leo winced when he remembered it again, “and found a key. And oh yeah, your grandfather likes anagrams. Forgot to mention that.” “Check out the key,” Hazel said, without taking her eyes off the road. “The…oh yeah,” he took it out. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said, after turning it over on his hand a few times, looking at the item closely. It was an elongated prism-shaped key with an equal armed cross at the top, and the letters PS were engraved on the cross. PS… Leo wrinkled his forehead, trying to think. Post Script…yeah, very likely. Police Sergeant… it might have worked for Frank, but not for Nicholas. Private Secretary…Leo rolled his eyes. Priory of Sion… Someone seemed to light a fire in Leo’s head. “Of course it doesn’t. My grandfather never gave away his secrets so easily. He loved brain teasers, puzzles, anagrams, treasure hunts…that sort of thing. I have a feeling that he’s sending us on one right now,” Hazel talked on, unaware of the brainwave Leo just had. “A treasure hunt…” Leo’s repeated, his eyes slightly unfocused as he considered options. “You still have that black light I gave you?” “Uh-huh,” she said, taking it out and giving to Leo. Nicholas Lobo had at least chosen a worthy companion for the treasure hunt – Hazel almost trusted him now. She acted on instinct earlier, taking away the guy from the DCPJ following her grandfather’s…orders? Requests? But now she trusted him on her own accord. “Aha!” he cried triumphantly. Hazel risked a glance at the key, and saw something glowing on one facet. “There’s an address!” “What address?” “No.24, Rue Haxo. That’s all. But it is the Priory of Sion, it has to be!” “The priority of what?” “No!” Leo said horrified. “Priory of Sion is a secret organization that protects the Holy Grail, or at least, we think so!” “We?” “Every single one of the Grail historians, Symbologists, fanatics, I can give you more than enough names! We had a suspicion that Priory of Sion had disbanded or had gone into hiding – this proves that they’re still around! I found something else – well, one of my friends and teachers told it, actually – there’s a rumour that the Priory of Sion had gone into the Amazon.com.” “What???” “Hard to believe, but it could be. You know how those people treat guys? They have to wear Iron collars!” Yes, Hazel knew that. She didn’t want Leo to renew her memories. She tried to turn the topic back to safer waters. “So the address of the Amazons is on the key?” “Dunno…Is there an Amazon Headquarters on 24, Rue Haxo? “I’m not sure…” Hazel’s brow furrowed in concentration as she ran a map in her head – and knew what she was looking for. “Of course! The Swiss Bank!” She wasn’t sure if it was exactly No. 24, but where else would her grandfather put the prize for such a complicated treasure hunt? Not for nothing was it called one of the best Geldschrank banks in the world. Of course, she didn’t know any ties between the Amazon.com and the Swiss Bank, but nothing’s wrong with checking out, right? Hazel took a sharp turn to the right and drove on, her mind reeling with all the information. “So you’re telling me that Priory of Sion simply changed their name to Amazon.com and became the worlds’ largest online retailer?” “Yes and no,” Leo replied. “From what I’ve learned, Priory of Sion went into the Amazons. Sort of secret society within a secret society. Double protection. Amazons are secretive enough, and the Priory breaks all the records.” “Yet someone got through both,” Hazel noted. And killed my grandfather, she added in her head. A decade of silence following that fatal fight had been ended breaking up the family forever. Or was it being patched up again? “Someone did,” Leo agreed. “I just can’t figure out who did. Still, we have the key with us, maybe the battle's still not lost.” “Quick question – what battle?” “Hazel, I’m not the god Apollo and I can’t tell what’s going to happen, but somehow or other we’re on a Grail Quest right now, and we can’t turn back. Your grandfather was murdered – death is not unusual in the search for the Grail. If you’ve read any of the King Arthur’s tales – what I’m telling right now would make complete sense to you. And even the location’s perfect – the Grail is believed to be somewhere in France. For Tartarus’s sake, have you got any idea about all the Roman sites in here? La Maison Carrée in Nimes, the Arles Amphitheatre, the Horreum in Narbonne-“ “I live in France, thank you very much. You point is? And how the hell do these sites get mixed up in the Grail?” “Argh, no. They don’t all get mixed in. I’m just trying to tell you the facts – oh fine, forget them! Here’s what you need to know – we’re running for our lives here, the DCPJ’s going crazy, your grandfather probably put something in the Swiss Bank, we need to get it before someone else does, and the Mr. Someone else is also responsible for your grandfather’s death! And did I mention that the Trojan War and the Grail is mixed up too? You don’t want the details, and I can’t remember them all either!” “That battle you told about?” Hazel said, slowing down suddenly and parking the car in the shadows, “It better had not lost yet.” ---- Jack Copperfield looked up from the game he was playing with the sound muted to see a couple walking into the lobby. “Bon soir, monsieur et madame,” he greeted. “How may I help you?” Hazel only gave a polite smile in return, and put the thin and long prism-shaped key on the counter. He took one look at it and stood up. “Ah, yes. Please take the elevator - your key will take you to the correct floor. I’ll send in a host to take you to the viewing room.” “Thank you,” both Leo and Hazel said simultaneously. Smiling at each other, they went into the elevator cabin. The doors closed before they could see the officer picking up the phone to speed dial the Manager. “Monsieur Courtenay?” he said in barely a whisper. “Yes?” someone replied. The voice was rather groggy, yet alert. “We have a situation down here. The Interpol is flagging two people. And they just walked in with a gold-key.” “Okay. I’ll get on it.” ---- Leo was surprised to feel the elevator going down, rather than up. Numbers kept blinking on the over head screen - and stopped at eleven. Leo was glad to hear the Bee Gees stop singing "Ah ah ah ah Stayin’ alive, Stayin’ alive / Ah ah ah ah Stayin’ alive, Stayin’ alive," when he was running for his life. They got out to meet a tall, fair man impeccably dressed in a Italian silk Armani suit. This is not the host, Leo thought. The newcomer introduced himself confirming his guess. "Hello, I’m Alex Courtenay – the Chairman here. I don’t usually get up to meet the clients, but for the gold-key customers, and specially ones like you, madam, we obviously exercise special procedures." "Me? What about me?" Hazel asked confused. "You’re grandfather was a very good friend of mine, Mademoiselle Levesque. I haven’t seen you in years, but I still can identify you." "Glad to meet you, sir, meet my friend Mr. Leo Valdez," Hazel introduced, and noted the past tense of Alex’s speech just a second later. "Wait a bit – 'you’re grandfather was'? Do you know about his death?" "Obviously. You two are all over the news right now. And the Interpol is tagging you." Alex’s voice had changed from the polite business-like manner – it was strained and ragged. "You’re wanted for three other murders as well. Jacin Leigh, Jason Grace, and Jacob Epperson – all of them quite prominent people in the society as you very well know – have been killed tonight. I don’t know if the charges are true, I don’t believe that Nicholas Lobo’s granddaughter killed her own grandfather, but you know what the DCPJ is like, Mme. Levesque. All I can ask is, please leave the premises quickly. The name of our bank mentioned in the news with a murder case would be awful in the field." He couldn’t have thrown them out more effectively. The French Police found us already? Hazel wanted to pull out her sword once again and go crazy with it – but this was not the French Police that they were dealing with. Besides, Hazel just knew that the answer to their treasure hunt was right here, they had to get it. "Sir," Hazel started in her most persuasive tone, "I know that coming here at this time with the police hunting us was not the best thing that we could have done, but we’re here on my grandfather’s orders himself. We didn’t kill him; someone else is after something that my grandfather held very precious." "And we know that it’s here." Leo added in. "Maybe if you can help us retrieve it -" "- I, nor anyone else, cannot access any of the gold key vaults at anytime," Alex cut across him. "We don’t even know to whom they belong to. They are marked with a 10-digit account number, not a name, the number also working as the password. I can buy you five more minutes, and I’ll take you a safe distance away – for Nicholas Lobo’s friendship’s sake, Ms Levesque, but that’s all I can do." "Thank you," both Leo and Hazel said simultaneously again. Alex led the way to a luxurious salon and processed accessing the account and left, saying, "you only have to insert the password at the screen and it’ll get you the safe on this conveyor belt. The private viewing room will be all yours for five more minutes, and then you have to leave!" "But we don’t have the password!" Hazel whirled back on the manager. "He died before he could tell that to me!" "I’m sorry that I can’t be of more use. Five minutes!" Alex turned back and literally fled back down the aisle closing the door after himself. Hazel muttered and stamped around the room, swiping her sword randomly onto the polished steel surfaces. To her displeasure, they didn’t even scratch. Leo walked over to the screen, deep in his thought and almost completely oblivious to the battle scene behind him. "Haze!" he called in a minute. "I think we do have the password." She sheathed her sword again and walked over to Leo. "Yes?" "The numbers on the floor. How many were there?" Hazel pulled out the photo from the crime scene again. Trying to ignore the dead body, she counted the numbers – 13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5. Eight numbers, ten digits. Yes! Nicholas Lobo had chosen a brilliant companion for her on the treasure hunt. Leo inserted the numbers on the screen, and a message appeared in a dozen languages. :Caution: ''' '''Before you strike the enter key, please check the accuracy of your account number. For your own security, if the computer does not recognize your account number, this system will automatically shut down and the process will be cancelled. "Fonction terminer," Hazel muttered. "One guess and you're out." She looked at the numbers again, and listened to her subconscious yelling at her. It was not the correct number. 1332211185 "It’s not the correct number. It’s way too random for my grandfather." "Of course it has to be random! Any ten year old would tell that to you!" Hazel shook her head vigorously and raised her hand to the screen. She inserted a completely different number without hesitance. One look at the new number told Leo that Hazel was right. 1123581321 Of course, he thought to himself, the Fibonacci sequence. Random, but completely sensible to the one who knows it. Hazel touched the ‘Enter’ tab on the touch-screen. For one whole minute, both of them were frozen. Was it the correct password? Then the conveyor belt started to hum. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief when it started moving slowly – too slow to their preference. It moved gracefully on, and brought a really heavy-looking steel box. Both Leo and Hazel had to work together to simply push the box from the belt to the viewing table in front of it. Surprisingly, it was not locked, and Leo heaved the lid open. Inside was another heavily carved wood-and-steel chest, much smaller compared to the steel box. Hazel took it out carefully and was just going to put it upon the table when the door banged open. She nearly dropped the chest. Alex was standing at the door way, looking both worried and incredulous."You got it, huh? Hurry up! The police is already at the gate, WE HAVE TO GO NOW!!!" ---- Sister Erin looked down from the black shadows of the balcony of the church, silently watching the pale man staring at the marble floor, near the Sulpice obelisk. It was only a while ago when the man came, Erin was there to greet him. “I’m embarrassed, Sister, that you were awoken on my behalf.” “Not at all.” Erin smiled to the man. “You shouldn’t miss Saint-Sulpice. Are your interest in the church more architectural or historical?” “Actually, Sister, my interests are spiritual.” “Ah, yes.” Erin continued to smile knowingly at the man, despite the uneasiness building in her heart. “I simply wondered where to start the tour.” “I’m afraid a tour would be unnecessary. You have been kind. I can show myself around though.” “No, it will be okay,” Erin said. “I’m quite awake now.” The man stopped walking. They were near the front pew of the altar. The man turned to face Erin. She almost recoiled when she looked at his eyes: blue and wild. “I thank you for the kindness for letting me in this church, Sister. But would you mind if I take some time alone to pray before I look around?” Erin hesitated. “Of course. I will be waiting at the rear of the church for you.” The pale man placed his hand on her shoulder. “Please, get some rest. I feel guilty already for awakening you. Let me enjoy this holy sanctuary and then let myself out.” Erin was still uneasy. “Are you sure you won’t feel abandoned?” The man forced a smile. “Not at all.” And now, as Erin watched from above, the man grabbed a large candle holder, wrapped a cloak on the butt of the hilt, and then started banging on the hollow part of the church’s floor. Each knock made her wince in surprise. Finally, after a few pounding, the floor cracked and it revealed a dark hollow. Erin gasped. This was the alarm. The Priory was breached. She ran back on tiptoes to her room and knelt down on the floor to grab from something under her bed. It was a card containing four telephone numbers – four numbers that she had been forbidden to call unless there was a dire emergency. Erin dialed them all. There was no answer in either of them. She was starting to panic. She didn’t know much about the Priory she had been affiliated to, but it was her duty to guard the ‘keystone’. But there was no keystone in the church. If someone were to get to it, then their organization was in big trouble. No one’s answering, Erin thought, with her heart in her mouth. They’re…they’re… “Where is it?” a raspy voice said behind Erin. Her heart was frozen for almost a minute before she could look slowly behind. It was the man that the abbé had sent to her, the man that was invading the Priory’s treasure. He looked pretty mad. “Tell me…” he said, “…where the cheese is.” Erin blinked for a moment, wondering if she heard right. What? Cheese? “Well,” she said with a coolly voice, “Cheese is available in the supermarket. Everybody knows that.” The man bellowed in rage and started trashing the room’s furniture. Erin slowly crawled out of the room and out of the mayhem. She had to alert the authorities. But they’re dead. They’re all dead. The truth… The man started chasing Erin down, still holding that candle holder in the air like a spear while running like a madman. But there was only one thing in Sister Erin’s mind that completely occupied her mind. Now that they are all the dead, the truth… The truth is lost forever. ---- "If you mean to take whatever you’ve found, please hide it," Alex shot, hurrying over to the safe and pushing it back to the belt with ease. "I don’t want anyone else to see it." Leo took his coat – he wasn’t wearing it, for Tartarus’ sake, it was glittering with all the powered glass that had been attached to the fabric – and wrapped it around the chest, cradling it like a baby. “Subtle,” Hazel said, grinning. Alex finished sending the safe back down the conveyor belt and hurried them out. “the Police has already surrounded the building and are banging down the front doors. I demanded for a search warrant – that should keep them away for a few more minutes, but that also means that you can’t leave.” “But you said we’re–“ “–Please. No more questions.” No more questions. That seemed to be the rule for all of tonight’s crazy happenings. Alex led them ten floors back up to the ground floor in the service elevator, and opened the doors to reveal a loading dock with several armored trucks. “Truck number three. Get in the cargo hold,” he whispered hurriedly, walking away to the dock overseer’s office. He went in, and came back in a minute looking completely different – he was wearing a driver’s uniform and a cap instead of his posh silk Armani. “I’ll take you a safe distance away. Whatever happens, make no noise,” he said closing the cargo doors, shutting them in. It was dark inside, until Leo pulled out a flashlight from his belt and switched it on. They heard the engine rev, and sincerely hoped that they would be able to get through safely. ---- Lieutenant Ryan Osborne was standing with his troop of officers when an armored vehicle drove out from the loading dock. He signaled for the vehicle to stop, which was almost unnecessary as there already was a police car blocking the way. Lieutenant Ryan walked over to the driver’s window and tapped on it, and the driver rolled it down, his mouth sour. “Who are you? Why ain’t you letting me pass?” Alex asked, his voice as crude as he could make – the polished upbringing he had was not helping him tonight. “Lieutenant Osborne, DCPJ. we're looking for two criminals who had escaped our watch from the Louvre, this evening, and we have receive news from our sources that they are in this bank. What’s in the cargo?” “Searching for criminals, huh? You’d be lucky. Some of these people have so much money, they’d have to be criminals! Hell if I know what’s in the cargo. I’m just a dock rat, we never know what we’re carrying!” “So you’re telling me that you have no idea about anything? You don’t have the keys to your own cargo area? How do they open it at the destination then?” “Computer. Passwords. Digital locks. Nothing for us. We just drive her back and forth. Can I go now? I’m on a tight schedule.” Ryan took another good look at the driver. Alex placed his hands back on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead, trying not to show his anxiety. “Tell me,” Ryan asked from the driver, “do all the drivers in the Zurich Bank wear Rolex Yatch Masters?” Alex cursed to himself. The right sleeve of his long sleeved uniform had been pulled back just enough to show the super-expensive watch underneath. “This piece of junk? Bought it for thirty Euros from a street vendor down the road!” Alex said, trying to appear scornful. “I’ll sell it to you for a forty.” “No thank you,” Ryan said, his lips curling. “You may go.” Alex could not breathe again until the truck was a good hundred meters away from Rue Haxo. He drove away from the city, his mind reeling. Where do I take them? ---- Inside the cargo of the armored truck, Leo and Hazel were sitting side by side, too nervous to talk. They had stopped at the gates for almost ten minutes - ten minutes that seemed to last forever. Only when the truck had been moving again did their hearts start beating again. Leo took the coat off the wooden chest, and laid it down between them. It was intricately carved with a repeating leafy pattern on rich warm colored rosewood, with a beautiful five-petaled rose inlaid n a paler wood. The box itself was a treasure, and it must held something precious. “Go on,” Hazel said in barely a whisper. “Open it.” Leo carefully undid the lock, and opened the chest to reveal a curious-looking object carefully nestled on heavily padded red velvet. It was a cylinder crafted of polished white marble, slightly longer and wider than his clenched fist. Five identical inch-wide disks with the entire English alphabet carved in calligraphy letters made up the body of the strange object, and delicate brass framework half the disks together. Each end was closed with two more beautiful brass end caps. It was beautiful. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Hazel whispered her eyes a little misty. Leo glanced up. “You know what it is?” “Of course,” Hazel said, her eyes still locked on the marble-and-steel object. “It’s a Cryptex. One of Da Vinci’s own inventions. My grandfather made this himself.” “You’ve seen this?” Leo asked incredulously. They’ve gone through so many things together tonight and the crazy girl just forgot to mention it? “No, but I got similar, smaller ones for my birthdays once or twice.” Hazel replied, looking directly at Leo now, with her eyes swimming with emotion. “My grandfather loved crafting Da Vinci’s inventions. This is a little something that he designed to send secret letters messages, maps, information, whatever between long distances.” “How do you open it?” “A password. A secret word that only the maker, sender and the receiver would know. See these dials? When they are arranged in the proper order against the indicator arrows on each side, the mechanism underneath aligns itself and we can open it. Guessing the password at random would be…” Hazel did a quick sum in her head, “…one impossible chance within twenty-six to the fifth power of possibilities – about twelve million, that is. No pressure.” “Why don’t I just smash it?” Hazel laughed out, she just couldn’t help it. She’d asked the very same question when she was seven years old and had received a hearty laugh from her grandfather. “Because the secret is written in a papyrus and then wrapped around delicate vial of vinegar – just a small amount of pressure will smash it, and voilà!, you’re looking for the secret, you get Papier-mâché.” Leo joined Hazel, and they were doubled up with laughter until they felt the truck coming to a stop. The brief moment of amusement blinked out. Hazel looked at Leo, and she saw his face mirroring her questions – had they come to their destination yet? And if they had, where were they? Their questions were sort of answered, but they didn’t exactly like the answer. The doors of the cargo were thrown open, and Alex was standing in front of them, aiming a pistol at them. His expression was hard and determined, but Hazel could say that he wasn’t going to shoot them, at least not just yet. He gave a simple, yet impossible command. “Give me the box.” “But you told-“ Hazel’s words were cut across by a sound of a gunshot roaring. “I don’t know how you got that account number or how your grandfather was murdered tonight, but I have a duty to my clients and my bank and that includes protecting what your grandfather entrusted to our bank, Ms. Levesque.” “But Mr. Lobo gave it to ME!” “I have no choice. If you don’t return that box right now, I might have to kill your friend here.” Hazel felt the familiar rush of blood that always proceeded a major craziness with her favorite weapon. She glared at the Manager, tensing her muscles like a cat ready to jump. Leo was doing the same, his hands in his belt – and Hazel knew that Alex Courtenay was about to get quite a surprise. “Fire!”